by C. N Lesley
“Outcast, there is no place among the righteous for sinners,” an empty one wearing bright colors droned.
“Trespassers earn one fate,” the cruel hunters chanted in unison. She fought for strands of sanity as the empty one, mind bereft of thoughts, approached. Her banded limb lifted to the order of another’s will. A claw-like thing settled round her bracelet. What had been golden drained down to black.
From a deep haven of safety, she screamed in silent extremis. A pumping organ expanded beyond limits, exploding, weeping a black ichor. Time moved forward, remorseless.
One floating thought-strand attached to another, then a third and a fourth. Escape or die, said logic. The pair of black eyes glinted out of bare rock, pressing through madness, and then the picture of a four-legged beast came to her. The name came to mind: Yes, a horse. Must get away—need horse, logic demanded. She tried to speak her needs, but how to make those sounds? Why could she understand the sounds others made, but not make her mouth move right?
“Hor–se,” her dry croak of a voice pleaded.
“The gift is known,” one of the hunters said.
“Let it be so. Get this creature away from Tadgehill,” the empty one ordered. “This foul sacrifice cannot be completed where it might cause contamination.”
Released from invisible restraints, she fell with numb, prickling limbs and was dragged along a dark passage as senses slowly returned, to where a copper horse waited. Copper – an important word, but why? She gasped for air, thrown astride the beast. Two deep breaths before plunging out into darkness where a shushing wetness promised safety, but the horse didn’t want to go there. Reluctantly, she directed the beast up a well-worn trail into danger. Wind tore into her face on reaching a bleak flatness at the top of a rise. Aware she must run, she chose the most traveled trail.
Copper, why was copper important? Another floating strand connected with the whole. A face swam into view. ‘Keep your blades sharp, Sister,’ a rough voice had said.
Blades, yes. I have blades. The hunters must appear honorable. They wouldn’t if they cut down an unarmed prey. He had said more: ‘Soon you will be in my grasp.’ A sad smile from another who couldn’t make those sounds very well. Sad – how do I know of sad? Ah, yes, this empty nothingness is sad. Another creature who understood, needed finding, but where? One more strand aligned, bringing a sense of safety from the north. She knew the sun traveled east to west and would come soon. She also knew those hunters would guess her passage. Not north then, not yet. Something south and west they feared. Head that way once the sun comes. Hunters need light to track. She must find shelter to get a good start.
Some time later, a dull moon in the blackness above lit a jumble of rocks; the traveler heard water running and felt safer here. She dismounted, directed by instinct to picket the animal close to a stream. Curled up against a boulder for a windbreak, she slept until the sun shone again.
She woke with a wet face, unable to see properly in gray mist, and spent time stretching to ease aching limbs. Her long, sodden pelt became an added irritation, one she used her belt knife to hack away with relief. The golden tresses fell unheeded to a muddy resting place, an obstacle for a solitary worm still above ground.
She went to her horse to strap on the harness and found a bulge in one side of the leather saddlebag. Food – bread and cheese. Someone had stashed this bounty in a hurry, a small cup of kindness for the damned. One crystalline tear spilled over to fall on a dry crust. No testament to self-pity, rather the last drop of feeling spared for one who had put compassion over hunger. With that pearl of moisture went the last remnants of kinship with humanity.
Teeth bit down onto bread, the body drawing sustenance, digesting evidence of lost life. The traveler headed southwest, soon finding a stream running in that direction. She paused, trying to tease information out of a whirling void inside her skull. The pieces gradually came together: hunters use canines; canines could not track where they could not smell; water stopped smell. She steered her horse into the stream.
Why do they punish? How did I sin? What did the empty one do to me? These thoughts went round and round in a mad spiral with no ending. She gave up the hopeless quest, concentrating on survival instead. More strands of memory latched together with each passing league to give her an acute awareness of every living form. She knew she could fight off attack with her blades and what form that defense would take.
In the place of the hunters, what had she left behind? There could be no return, not for years. Someday she would remember . . . perhaps by then the hunters would have forgotten about her.
Sunshine burned at hazy layers as the copper horse picked along the stream. She decided to follow this path west until midday. This was going to slow the pursuers, although they’d know she’d come out sometime. As the day wore on, the grayness of mind disgorged another image, one sharp in every detail. A creature covered with fur, which walked on two legs and yet bore predator teeth. The image of twin breathing pits . . . she shuddered. It had two names . . . a lucky creature to have two of them, one name for its own kind, and then one for people, this Nestine/Harvester. Nasty taste of the creature’s thoughts.
What did such a creature want with people? Why did it hold the minds of men in bondage? Why couldn’t the soldiers see the beast?
A line of trees ahead shielded a deep river valley where a stream flowed. Midday passed at a peaceful stroll, and the time approached to double back, head north. Best to make a very wide circle in case some of the hunters followed that trail.
The sound of fast white-water carried on the breeze as a branch of the river came into view. The traveler urged the copper horse to a bank. Water rushed over green, weed-covered boulders. This water ran south, ideal for the purpose. They wouldn’t know which course to follow.
The sun hung overhead, giving warmth to bring on a hazed, sleepy need. A lazy spiral of carrion birds squawked overhead, competing with the splash of rushing water. The traveler rounded a tree-packed bend straight into the path of a saurian. Memories of nature came flooding back at the sight of this beast. The reptile stood fifteen feet tall from hind feet to top of crest. This carnivore had a venomous spit that paralyzed, while partly-digesting victims.
The copper horse squealed in terror, throwing the traveler, reins catching on a branch. The traveler rolled in falling, standing up bruised but intact, several paces from the frantic animal. No sense in releasing it, since both of them faced death.
One pace at a time, slowly, so as not to spook the monster into a charge, she distanced two potential victims, sword drawn. The saurian hadn’t stopped eating its last meal, a stag. It stood on its two back legs, showing its much smaller, grasping forelimbs; its heavy hind muscles indicated speed and jumping ability. The head was too well encased by bone for a target, and the neck had spiny ridges extending along the length of the spine. Frontal attack would be death, because the creature would spit venom for preference. Only one area gave an opening, just where its spine met the pelvic girdle and the horny outgrowths stopped. Still feeding, the saurian eyed the copper horse. It dropped a chunk of carcass and began to stalk, breaking into a charge. The horse reared. The traveler aimed, striking a mighty blow as the saurian sped past. A lucky hit, her sword bit deep between the creature’s backbones. The beast crashed, half paralyzed. Thrashing, it swiveled its head enough for a counter strike too swift to dodge. The spittle slapped against her right forearm and hand, catching the ugly black circle. Leather melted, flesh smoked. The band sent out little lights, like fireflies on a summer’s eve. With that last spurt of spite, the predator went into death throes.
Groaning, hissing with pain, the traveler crawled forward to thrust the mess of a limb into an icy torrent. Pain eased with rushing water pounding against the burn, reducing it to an angry throb. This injury wasn’t going to heal, and the limb must come off – impossible without help.
First lose hunters and then head north to safety.
The copper horse took a whil
e to calm, and mounting was difficult, one-handed. The traveler turned east to begin a wide circle.
Each passing hour marked increased weakness. A pale moon inched across starry heavens as the solitary pair walked darkened earth. The night breeze sighed, moaning over empty lands . . . a familiar echo. The sad one with copper hair who called her ‘Sister’ . . . must be close, maybe close enough to hack off this ruined limb. She sensed a draw to the east, a feeling of rightness.
Strength seeped away with the target so close. Moonlight glinted off the surface of a large lake ahead. A sense of familiar presence radiated from bushes near the shore. The copper horse headed to water without direction, not shying when a dark-cloaked figure stepped forward to grasp the reins. Another eased the traveler down to earth.
As the useless limb flopped to the damp grass, the black band sparked once more, giving off a single whine and a curl of smoke. She looked up for the one needed, but when its hands pushed back those concealing cowls all hope faded. Pale moonlight reflected off fine silver scales; the one who knelt over had short, curling hair of a light color that ruffled in the breeze. Large, pale eyes over a straight nose and firm lips made an intelligent face, but not a human one. This creature looked concerned.
“Made straight for us. Knew where we based.” Another of the group looked at the traveler and aimed a box at the black band. “We’re in luck. By the deeps, it’s deactivated. We have a trophy.”
“Our young warrior ran up against a saurian by the appearance of these wounds. Look, Tarvi, still conscious and unafraid. What do you make of that?” the fair one said.
“They usually panic when they know they’re dying. This is more like a beast, lying down to accept the inevitable.”
Another of the group came over to look. This one had long, light hair and a softer face. There was a faint pressure inside the traveler’s head, and then the creature backed off in disgust. “It’s a moron. Finish it off, Ector. Our trophy must be taken home at once.”
“Sanctuary claims to have bred out impatience, but I see one seer with full measure.” Ector took a narrow container from a pocket. He removed the stopper, letting a smooth liquid drip on the traveler’s parched lips.
“Well, youngling, seems you had wit enough to find us. How did you know where to look?” Ector asked.
The traveler tried to find the sounds she understood, but could not repeat. One sound came to mind, which wouldn’t serve alone.
“I promise none will speed an ending unless you wish it, youngling. Answer and I’ll give you something for the pain,” Ector urged, just as the traveler dug out another sound.
“Look . . . Cop–per,”
“Ector, this is an exercise in futility. The moron can’t even talk.”
“Be still, Suki. This Terran understands well enough to give answers. Just because we don’t grasp the meaning doesn’t mean one isn’t valid.” Ector tilted the bottle for the traveler to drink again. “Let’s prove her wrong. You do understand, so we’ll try something more basic. Tell me your name,” he said.
The traveler looked straight into those pale eyes and smiled a sad smile, not having an answer to give. The sky went dark as a cloud passed over the moon, and she remembered the other sad one’s warning. Destined fate approached.
The dream-watcher flickered into focus, waiting in the phantom depths of night, his matte-black eyes now shining gold in the moonlight. He began to move closer.
“Shad . . . ow,” she whispered, trying to explain it was time to go, wanting a last sleep, but needing to warn these kind creatures of the one who stalked souls.
“Ector, let it alone. It’s near the threshold.” Tarvi pulled at Ector’s arm.
“In a moment. The answers are trapped inside, I think.”
The traveler felt a firm push against her thoughts, and somehow there appeared more order as the stranger’s will delved deep. She considered fighting, but she was so very tired, and this intrusion didn’t taste bad. Vision blurred, fading down into blackness. Sound became a dull drone, soon gone. Lungs sucked in one final breath.
*
Ector swore as he disengaged, frantically digging into the contents of his belt pouch for a disc. He placed it on the Terran’s head, activating it. That last lungful of air sighed out; heartbeat ceased; eyes glazed. He closed them.
“What? Found something?” Tarvi asked, coming close to check that the stasis device functioned.
“Our Terran ran afoul of a Nestine before she battled with a saurian. Long-term memory is mostly gone, and her speech center has extensive damage. Maybe that dead sonic device enabled communication.” Ector shrugged looking up at Tarvi. “If there’s the slightest chance of retrieving more, I’d say she is as valuable a find as our trophy.”
“Ector, I’ve never seen a Terran amputee. You’re not doing any favors.” Tarvi shone a flashlight on the wound. Bones glistened, part exposed. A gobbet of melting flesh sloughed away.
Ector flinched. “Why is this girl the only one we found with any idea of Nestines? Why didn’t she react to us with the usual Terran panic? We may have picked up an unexpected advantage, Tarvi. One I’d be a fool to overlook.”
“Nestine ship to the West,” Suki called, from the edge of the lake.
“They seem to think there’s something out there worth landing for,” Ector said, watching the bright disc descending. “Cut that animal free from reins, and then it’s time to leave.”
Ector scooped up the Terran, throwing her over his shoulder. With his unit behind, he headed out into the lake depths.
*
The copper horse whuffled night air, puzzled at the sudden quiet. It pricked up its ears, heading home when pink glints of dawn light rose over the horizon. Midnight-colored eyes faded back into rock, as the lonely bark of a dog-fox cut through sleepy silence while ripples calmed on dark water.
Chapter 8
Earth Date 3892
“When a limited intelligence is faced with confusing and contradictory data, sensory overload is inevitable.” The Archive’s mechanical voice echoed around the small room.
Standing by the door, Arthur wiped sweaty palms on the front of his black robe. His stomach churned and his heart raced. Now he knew how the subject, Shadow, had acquired such an odd name: a handle applied by default. That terrible void, where the essence of personae should reside, rattled with little data left in a space designed to hold a quantity. Amazing the survival instinct still functioned – that she would want to live. No, his perception was at fault. He knew what she’d lost, if Shadow did not. Her life had vanished, and having little memory meant no comparisons. Arthur reassessed; something had been remembered, or her history could not have included Terran interludes of such detailed recollection.
“Intelligent beings can assimilate fresh data.”
How far would the Archive enable him to probe? He didn’t want to let go of how this woman had been, a lively and vibrant soul, full of life and courage. In her, he could forget his own organized existence.
“Wild variables in thinking, consistent with thought patterns influenced by enzyme secretion, inhibit pure logic.” A second row of lights winked into brilliance on the console. “Assimilation success rate is calculated at 3.15 percent.”
Not good odds. He’d hoped some trace of humanity remained in Shadow, but the Archive computed otherwise, not the answer he wanted. Perhaps, with another perspective, that fragment could be found. Arthur checked his digital chronometer. Three hours before official acolyte wake time, so there would be none about to catch him if he continued, but just because he could do something, didn’t mean he should – there lay the path to addiction. Either this course charted for his life would prevail, or he’d find another way, perhaps fighting alongside Shadow. Taking the few steps to the solitary seat, he connected his interface with the Archive again, a defiant gesture, to request a review of Ector in the relevant time frame.
*
Earth Date 3874
The soft thump of turbines and a
whine from a railpod in transit cut through Ector’s thoughts as he gazed out from the flat rooftop of the barracks. He’d come up here for peace of mind, yet it eluded him with spiteful disregard.
The city of Avalon lay below, smooth-sided gray buildings of two stories for the most part, rising in height at the core, where the pyramid of central command stood resplendent. In a side street he spotted an open door, a cat slinking out past frantic hands. Somebody’s beloved pet trod a dangerous passage now. A huge plate of food was offered. The cat permitted capture. Not a moment too soon, as a ground runner sped down that street; the pilot sailed past, unaware of the near miss.
He settled down on a low conduit casing, easing back to gaze at the blue glow of ocean through the plasglass dome of Avalon as he went through his thoughts. The Terran recovered three floors below, still unconscious from the medication needed to remove her arm. Strange how Ambrose kept sneaking looks at the girl, although in his capacity as Elite Supreme Commander, he pulled rank to order the rest of them away. Having a freed Terran at close quarters was a huge temptation. All wanted to see how their ancestors looked, the girl being the closest living example.
Tarvi reported the suspected damage to her brain wasn’t laser burn, nor was there any chemical residue. The problem resulted from gross sensory overload induced under torture. Bad enough, yet Ector hoped he could bypass a neural block if he ever got the chance. He was sure the Terran understood speech, so repairing her language center must be his first priority.
Ambrose wanted a first-hand detailed description of a Terran fort. His cherished dream was to launch an attack at a Nestine egress while they launched a skyship. All existing information indicated the slave race knew nothing about the Nestines. The debris, the resulting chaos, might be enough to free some Terrans to fight their no-longer concealed overlords.
